Homonym
by KayteaEM
Summary: Slowly, and with great care, the relationship between Rorschach and Nite Owl grows.
1. Part I: Friendship

**Title: **Homonym

**Fandom: **Watchmen

**Pairing: **Rorschach (Walter)/Nite Owl (Daniel)

**Warnings: **SLASH – though very mild. As always: don't like, don't read.

**Summary: **Slowly, and with great care, the relationship between Rorschach and Nite Owl grows.

**A/N: **First Watchemn fanfic! I adore this GN and I adore this pairing (so I hope I did them justice.) For the purpose of this fic – and my sanity in writing it – I made Rorschach more human, such is the joy of artistic license. Honestly, I don't think Canon!Rorschcach would even be capable of _contemplating _a sexual relationship… regardless of how much I may want him to be with Dan. Anyway, this story will be posted in two parts – Part One: Friendship and Part Two: Something More. I really hope you enjoy both - onwards!

* * *

><p><strong>Part I: Friendship<strong>

**1. **

It starts with movement.

From the mouth of the alleyway Rorschach watches as this new mask – the second Nite Owl – works his way through a series of Knot Tops. One comes at him from the left with a crow bar… and it's caught, viciously twisted from his grip. The supplied weapon then connects with the head of a second assailant who collapses onto his knees. Nite Owl uses the man's brief position to shield himself as he drops to the ground, snatching up some gadget he'd dropped earlier in the fight. With one click the dart shoots out – some sort of miniature taser? – and hits the piece of scum who falls, seizing.

There's nothing showy in his movements. No bravado. Just the creative and sometimes desperate motions of a man willing to do anything to win.

Rorschach respects that.

Heaving, Nite Owl turns and catches sight of him. He jerks.

"Uh… hey. You're Rorschach right?"

The man with the changing face pauses for a moment… but then turns. He walks away from Nite Owl, refusing to respond.

"You could have helped you know!" The shout hits his back as he leaves but it's not accusing, just baffled. Maybe a little bit embarrassed.

He could have helped… but it was obvious this Nite Owl didn't need it.

Working his way up a nearby fire escape Rorschach replays the fight in his mind, categorizing the smooth movements.

He thinks that this mask, this man, is good.

* * *

><p><strong>2. <strong>

Dan has just finished cuffing a mugger to the nearest lamppost when he catches sight of a familiar profile above him. He tries not to grin at the fact that Rorschach is following him. _Again. _

He'd heard about the guy long before meeting him of course, who hadn't? Next to Dr. Manhattan Rorschach was the most feared mask New York City had to offer. As soon as Dan had hit the streets he was facing criminals that – far from running in fear – were expressing profound relief that he wasn't The Terror of the Underworld. It was pretty frustrating actually. Next to the psycho who broke fingers on a nightly basis, the guy dressed up like an owl wasn't all the intimidating.

Although, having someone as accomplished as Rorschach tailing him was sort of humbling. That is, you know, if it weren't also creepy.

But still… humbling.

Giving up, Dan lets himself smile. He leaves the mugger for the police to handle and starts strolling casually down the alleyway. As he passes under the building to his right he looks up at the short figure, letting his grin show itself fully. Really, the guy was pretty damn small when you got right down to it…

"Hey!" He shouts, feeling daring. "You've gotten into this terrible habit of watching me do all the work! Ever gonna come down and help me out?"

The mask tips slightly to the left, shifting and shifting. Dan would find it uncomfortable if it weren't so fascinating. After a moment of waiting – indecision? - the mask pulls back and the figure disappears, slipping between the roof's shadows.

However, no one is more surprised than Rorschach himself when, two blocks later, he jumps from a nearby fire escape and lands at Nite Owl's side.

* * *

><p><strong>3. <strong>

He's almost too big for this lifestyle. Not fat but… bulky. More of him to hit. Can't fit in tight places. Can't hide easily. Can't move swift and silent. It's a hindrance. A liability. And his gadgets are good, but he's dependent. What if one breaks? What if one fails? Then what? Too much dependence. Liabilities. And he's trusting. Too trusting. Very, very trusting. How can a man who's seen this city's face be so trusting? He smiles and waves his arms and speaks in terms of optimism. Young. Foolish. Not good. Too much hope is a potential liability. Easily crushed. Disposed of. _Trampled_. So many. There are so many reasons to not be his partner.

And yet…

As Rorschach lands beside him he is fascinated by the steps they take. Despite the radical difference in their heights they've somehow managed to walk in sync. Each step, mirrored perfectly

Their feet sound confidently on the pavement, carrying them forward towards the same destination at the exact same time.

* * *

><p><strong>4. <strong>

They've settled into a routine of sorts these past three weeks. Dan patrols. Rorschach shows up. He kicks the asses of many, _many _criminals and then leaves whenever it strikes his fancy.

Well, at least he was doing his share of the work.

Dan watches as his new partner finishes pounding some no-name lowlife. The buddy of this guy had accidentally shot him during their fight and the spray caught Rorschach along his face, leaving a bit of red in between the black and white of his mask. As he drops the unconscious kid an old joke rises unbidden to Dan's mind.

"Hey, Rorschach." Dan smiles when he sees his shoulders twitch. He's learning his partner's body language. "What's black and white and red all over?"

His new translation skills kick in when Rorschach's spine snaps straight and his hands clench. Obviously, he's said something very wrong.

Oops.

* * *

><p>Rorschach feels sick to hear that joke coming out of Nite Owl's mouth. His body is on the defensive a second before he consciously registers it.<p>

The other kids around the block loved that joke. What's black and white and red all over? The mixed race whore who doesn't know how to put her lipstick on. Or another favorite: ginger-haired Walter after he's had a good pounding. Red and white and black and blue_. _

"Don't know _Nite Owl_." He growls, spitting the name. "Do tell."

"Uh…" He's floundering, trying to salvage a situation where he doesn't know what's gone wrong. But after a second his confidence – that confidence born from flipping off society's expectations to keep that same society safe – reasserts itself and he steps forward.

Rorschach steps back.

"Well, um… your mask." Nite Owl says, shrugging. "You've got blood on it. Black and white and red, get it? Sooo, yeah…"

Nite Owl twists his cape between his fingers like a child who's been caught doing wrong and Rorschach feels his nausea grow.

* * *

><p>His partner slumps. Dan dares to take another step closer.<p>

"I uh, didn't mean to insult you or anything."

"Not insulted." He sounds like he's swallowing something huge when he says, "Good joke."

Smiling, Dan shakes his head. Approaching the hunched figure he raises his hand to gift him a pat on the back… but then stops. Somehow, he gets the sense that Rorschach wouldn't appreciate it. At least not right now. Instead, he begins a five-minute explanation on how best to ignore him when he's stuck his foot in his mouth. Rorschach says nothing the rest of the night.

But when he oh so hesitatingly offers to share a recipe for removing bloodstains Rorschach does nod back in equal hesitation.

Nite Owl… he deserves that much at least.

* * *

><p><strong>5. <strong>

Dan stands in a room filled with people and every person wears a mask.

Being a vigilante requires, in actuality, more planning than courage. While a drive for justice is certainly needed, it can only get you so far. With this in mind he and the other masks had gathered to divvy up as much of New York City as possible. After all, it wouldn't do far all of them to be patrolling within the same couple of bocks, not much of anything would get done that way.

However, attempting to find a section to patrol that was convenient without revealing the location of your house… that was difficult. After the first two hours Captain Metropolis ordered pizza and, an hour after that, their serious planning somehow morphed into an impromptu party.

Dan wasn't complaining.

Walking by a table laden with drinks and cheap hors d'oeuvres (their lifestyle doesn't exactly lend itself to maintaining decent jobs and Ozymandias, despite his supposed philanthropy, never offers to buy the food) and catches sight of Rorschach making awkward conversation with the Comedian.

"_Yes_." His newfound partner says forcibly, though what he's agreeing to Dan doesn't know. "Nite Owl is very good friend."

He stops, accidently knocking over an abandoned drink.

_What? _

He's barely known this guy a month. They _just _started patrolling together. They've yet to trade names, or interests, or faces. What he _does _know is that Rorschach has terrible hygiene and might be an anti-Semite which, yeah, doesn't bode well for any future friendships. Hell, the first time he met Rorschach he stood in an alleyway, watching him work through more Knot Tops than he was comfortable handling and never lifted a goddamn finger. He's violent and crazy and doesn't know him _at all… _And yet, apparently, Dan has already risen to 'good friend' status. A _'very' _good friend. God, he liked the guy well enough, strange as that may sound, but Rorschach just didn't seem the type…

Unless…

Unless of course, he had nothing to compare their relationship to.

Let's be honest, how many friends did he think a guy like Rorschach had?

One. Apparently.

Suddenly the question of the night wasn't the simple 'what part of New York will we keep safe?' but rather, 'do I want the responsibility of being this guy's _only _friend?'

Dan spends the rest of the party having a bit of an identity crisis, most of which is spent in a corner, recalling memories of his mom yelling at him for taking in strays. But by the time the food is gone and people are yawning into their cups he has his answer. He kicks Archie into gear before sticking his head out of the hatch, beckoning to a hunched figure.

"Hey, Rorschach! Is there any place I can drop you off?"

* * *

><p>Nite Owl doesn't understand the distinction in Rorschach's mind.<p>

_He _is a good friend. Smiling and helping and brave and hasn't made crude remarks about Rorschach behind his back (and he _would _know) or turned away from the shifting symmetry of his face. And now Nite Owl offers a ride like it's nothing of consequence.

He is a good friend.

Rorschach is only a good partner.

He doesn't know _how _to be a friend. Let alone a good one.

But he still slips into Archie, weighted by his uneven role in this relationship. He stands awkwardly at the back until Nite Owl pushes a tiny blue button and a crooning sax fills the air.

_I'm never gonna dance again_

_Guilty feet have got no rhythm_

_Though it's easy to pretend I know you're not a fool_

_I should have known better than to cheat a friend_

_And waste the chance that I'd been given-_

Squawking, Nite Owl lunges for the consul and keeps pressing things until the music stops.

"Um…"

Rorschach stands there, frozen, wondering what the hell that just was. Breaking his trance he looks over at Nite Owl who's rubbing the back of his neck and shooting him an embarrassed smile. There's a flush forming on his skin, noticeable even through the costume's cowl. At the very least, that ridiculous song seems to have broken a bit of the tension.

"I uh, like George Michael?"

"That a question Nite Owl?" Rorschach is trying not to smile. It's the first time in weeks.

"No!" Shaking his head he points to the seat beside him, laughing. "Why don't you sit down? Jesus, I was looking for The Beatles…"

As Nite Owl fiddles with more buttons Rorschach slowly, hesitantly sits. It's only when they've almost arrived at his drop off point that he's relaxed enough to realize he's learned the first bit of personal information Nite Owl has to offer.

_He likes George Michael. _

Rorschach is convinced that he's only good as a partner.

But Walter thinks that maybe, even if he doesn't learn how to _be_ a friend, he might learn how to have one.

* * *

><p><strong>6.<strong>

They've known each other three months when the name finally slips.

Rorschach's head turns and Dan doesn't need to see his face to know he's wearing an incredulous expression.

"_Archie _Nite Owl? Not serious."

He immediately begins his defense (if he's honest, he's had it planned for weeks.) See here Rorschach, Archimedes wasn't _just _an owl, he was _Merlin's _owl. Merlin! The greatest wizard of all time! And, of course, the name derives from one of the most accomplished of all Greeks. Mathematician, physicist, engineer, inventor, astronomer… Archimedes did it all.

"So really," Dan concludes. "It makes perfect sense to name my ship Archimedes!"

But Rorschach is shaking his head. "Didn't call it Archimedes, called it _Archie._"

"Yeah well, it's just a nick-name…"

"Reminiscent of Archie Comics. Not dignified Nite Owl."

The kids they've got tied up snicker in agreement. Rorschach deals a few swift kicks to their ribs, which shuts them up pretty fast. When their groans die down Rorschach gestures as if to illustrate his point.

"Aw come on man. I dress up like an owl. My reputation is dodgy as it is."

"Hurm. Yes. But no need to taint mine."

However, Dan notices that despite his many complaints Rorschach doesn't look for another partner, or ask him to change the ship's name, or even to refrain from using it in front of others. He doesn't do anything to avoid 'tainting' his reputation.

And by the time another two months have passed they are no longer separate identities. The scum of New York know them only as Rorschach _and _Nite Owl. The Terror of the Underworld has ceased being a man and has instead become a team.

* * *

><p><strong>7.<strong>

It's a year into their partnership when, with a little help from the local bar, they 'stumble' upon the latest gun dealer. During the ensuing scuffle one of the big wig's drones gets in a lucky shot, cracking one of the guns over Nite Owl's head. Rorschach is so focused on making another boy swallow his own teeth that he doesn't immediately notice. When he does… well, the man who hit his partner isn't likely to be walking soon. Or ever.

It's when the fight is through that they realize they have bigger problems than a routine concussion.

After that first ride from the Crimebusters meeting they started using Archie routinely. It's more practical than going on foot. They cover more ground; dispense more justice this way.

It is good.

But right now Nite Owl is in no shape to pilot his beloved machine. Collapsing into the chair he has just enough energy left to engage the auto-pilot before dropping into a daze.

Rorschach works on keeping his partner awake, thus, he pays little attention to that last action.

That Nite Owl set it to auto-pilot.

That the auto-pilot takes him _home. _

They've already passed under the water, shot through a tunnel, and landed in some underground basement before Rorschach realizes his mistake.

* * *

><p>"Nite Owl."<p>

Dan groans, his head swimming.

"Nite Owl. Need to wake up. _Now._" The voice keeps pulling at him until finally, painfully, he's conscious enough to open his eyes. When he does, he's greeted with one of the strangest sights he's seen in a while.

"Rorschach," he croaks. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Sure enough his partner is… well, sitting on the floor. Cross-legged. Just a few feet from Dan's legs. He's got his head tipped low and is deliberately _not_ looking up.

"Windows too large." He mutters. "Potential liability."

"_What_?"

"Look at location Nite Owl."

Through the steady pounding in his temple Dan forces himself to turn his head the scant inches it's required to look out Archie's two, circular windshields. The entrance to his basement – or his 'nest' as he likes to privately think of it – greets him.

"What are you on about buddy?" He asks. "What am I looking for? It's just my-" and he cuts himself off as he realizes what he was about to say. 'It's just my basement. It's just my _home._'

"Oh. Shit_._"

"Hurm."

Dan looks back down at his partner. "And you're sitting on the floor because…?"

Rorschach's head ducks farther against his chest and Dan has the distinct impression he's embarrassed. "Not tall enough to see from this angle." He says, "Didn't want to see any more…"

Dan takes a second to process that through the painful cloud that's become his thinking process. But when he does, "_Oh._"

There's a long moment in which he just gazes at Rorschach wondering if, were he given the chance, he'd be able to resist the curiosity of knowing where this man lives.

Probably not.

_Shit. _

Dan runs a hand through his hair. He should really take the time to think this through… but one more look at his partner sitting curled on the floor solidifies his resolve. "Oh hell man, stand up."

Rorschach whole body twitches.

"Come on, come on. This is ridiculous. You know the general area and you had to have noticed we went underwater to reach this entrance… it wouldn't take a genius to figure out where I live and _you _would figure it out in about five seconds flat. Don't tell me you don't have a good idea, even if you were paying more attention to me than our location."

His partner grunts.

"Besides, it's stupid. I trust you with my life on a nightly basis. This is just more of the same." Heaving himself from the chair Dan opens the hatch, gesturing towards the outside world with grandeur.

"Ta da. Come on in and make yourself at home. I'll get the coffee." Without bothering to look back Dan stumbles out of Archie, clutching his head and cursing the asshole who hit him.

Slowly, Rorschach follows.

* * *

><p>Nite Owl never did get the coffee. Rorschach fled out the tunnel entrance the moment he knew where it would take him.<p>

As he starts the trek back to his own apartment Nite Owl's voice replays in his mind. _It's stupid. _He hears. _This is just more of the same. _

But it's _not _the same.

Their masks, their identities are _everything. _He has to be Rorschach to deserve Nite Owl's partnership; his attention. As Rorschach he is good. Maybe not a good friend but certainly a good partner. Strong. Not weak. Free from the sins that taint Walter. Free from compromise. Those lives, they _must _remain separate.

But now Nite Owl's civilian persona is bleeding into his masked identity. Rorschach knows that he likes George Michael. He most likely wears glasses, given how many times he's seen Nite Owl touch the bridge of his nose. And now, now he knows where he _lives. _

These nuggets of information, they're dangerous…

But not dangerous enough for Rorschach to willingly give up.

Over the next two months they return to Nite Owl's basement a total of four times. Three times it's to treat minor injuries, once to conduct repairs on Archie. Each time he sits at Nite Owl's worktable he tenses, waiting for the inevitable question.

_So… where do you live?_

It doesn't come.

After that, each time gets a little easier. Rorschach begins moving around the place, looking at all the notes and blueprints he doesn't understand. Nite Owl brings down the coffee he promised that first night.

One day Rorschach works up the courage to mention that coming here is in fact more convenient than the drop off point he usually gives.

Neither of them acknowledges how significant this is but after that all their nights end in Nite Owl's basement. Rorschach ignores the fact that he's becoming dependant on a warm atmosphere and plenty of coffee.

* * *

><p><strong>8. <strong>

It's after they've broken up a prominent prostitute ring that it happens. They've returned to the nest, high as kites on adrenaline, and are trading more praise for one another in the space of five minutes than they have in the past year.

These are the kinds of moments when anything can happen.

Thus, when Dan decides to finally remove his cowl, introducing himself in light of this accomplishment, it isn't a surprise to either of them. As he'd said before, it's just more of the same. Once you know where a man lives the rest of his life story is easily obtained.

But Dan trusts his partner not to have looked into all that. As he offers his ungloved hand for the first time he still views this moment as a turning point.

His name and face are gifts freely given.

* * *

><p>Rorschach recognizes the gesture. Thus, he doesn't mention that he's known Daniel's name since the second time they'd come down here. On the worktable where he generally sits are a pile of ornithology magazines, all of which are made out to one 'Daniel Dreiberg.'<p>

It is a sloppy, careless mistake.

But he doesn't mention it.

* * *

><p>"Do you uh… want to have the coffee upstairs?"<p>

Dan watches as Rorschach freezes on his way to the worktable. The ink of his mask pulls sharply against where his mouth would be, almost as if he's gasped. But that's a stupid thing to think. Surely he would have seen this coming? Dan's given his partner his name, his face, and the lowest floor of his home. Surely it's about time he opened up the rest of it as well.

(Sometimes, especially late on the nights when they don't patrol, Dan wonder's what the hell he's doing. Rorschach… he could be _anyone. _He knows no more about him than he did that first time he learned that they were 'good friends.' It should be scary. It should be _frustrating_. But whenever Dan gives a little more he catches the clenching of his partner's fists and the bowing of his head. There's guilt in those movements. Late during those nights Dan reassures himself that Rorschach wants to share these things but for whatever reason feels he can't. He reassures himself that his partner actually gives a damn.)

"I just thought, you know… might as well!" He gestures towards the stairs, encouraging his partner to ascend them. "Besides man, it gets cold this time of year, too cold to be hanging out in basements. Just… come upstairs for a bit. Okay?"

Rorschach has his head tilted forward, neck straining against his scarf. It's half-way between a nod and a shake and Dan waits tensely (why? Does this really mean so much to him?) for him to choose between the two.

Miraculously, he nods.

I happens almost exactly as it did before. Rorschach sits awkwardly at the kitchen table instead of the worktable. He leaves quickly as he did that first night. And, as before, it becomes easier with time.

Dan learns that his partner likes beans and starts keeping a full pantry.

* * *

><p>Soon after this Rorschach in turn realizes that he's the only one who calls his partner 'Daniel.' Everyone else simply calls him 'Dan.'<p>

This is satisfying.

* * *

><p><strong>9. <strong>

Amazingly, Dan finds even more of himself to share.

They're standing beneath an auto repair sign, enduring the night's chill because Rorschach refuses to come inside.

"Don't worry, it's not just you Hollis." Dan laughs. "It took me months to get him into the kitchen!"

"Hrm."

He doesn't say much, just stands and listens to these men gossip about birds and old memories. But when it comes time to leave he gladly shakes the first Nite Owl's hand, if only because this is the man who helped shape Daniel.

"It was good to finally meet you Rorschach." Hollis says, "I'm glad you're watching out for Danny-boy here. Keeping him safe."

Daniel blushes.

As the soft, aged skin slides against his gloves Rorschach suddenly feels as if he's meeting Daniel's father.

"Always keep him safe." He finds himself promising, before he can censor the words. "Will not compromise in this."

* * *

><p><strong>10.<strong>

There's a ginger-haired man with a sign who patrols the city's streets. Even when there is no darkness, no obvious filth, he patrols. And ever since he learned the face of his partner he hasn't patrolled alone.

He searches for it in every crowd.

He finds it.

Buying hotdogs, at the newsstand, avoiding puddles on the sidewalk. Daniel is everywhere and this man keeps an eye on him, unnoticed.

At first it feels wrong. Like… spying. The gaze is a powerful weapon, capable of tainting what it touches and to possess a gaze that cannot be guarded against is dangerous indeed. He feels dirty doing this…

But that doesn't stop him.

* * *

><p>Two years and Rorschach walks into Daniel's kitchen as if it were his own. This slow building confidence is a good thing, especially since there is often very little food in his own apartment.<p>

On this particular day it's a smell that's caught his attention.

"Daniel. Cooking something?" It's obvious he is. He's dressed in jeans and an apron with a large, obnoxious owl on the front. Rorschach eyes it with distaste but whatever his partner is cooking smells too good to risk loosing a taste by insulting his fashion sense.

"I'm experimenting." Daniel smiles brightly as he stirs the pot. "I think you'll like it."

Three minutes later his concoction is done and Daniel waves him into a chair. A full bowl is placed before him.

"Beans." He says, pointing with a spoon. "_Hot. _With uh… lets see: cinnamon, nutmeg, a bunch of chopped bacon…" He trails off because Rorschach is already stuffing his face. He hasn't had a full serving of anything in six days (he remembers) and he'd be devouring the food even if it _wasn't _delicious.

Daniel, despite the success, grimaces.

"Buddy… we need to work on your table manners."

* * *

><p>Exactly six days before this Dan is coming back from the library when he spots the ginger-haired man at a food vendor. He's obviously homeless, or at least very poorly off. The green suit he wears is not only ugly as sin but mended in more places than Dan can count. He's seen this man hundreds of times and he's <em>never <em>worn another outfit.

He's always felt a little sorry for him. He seems nice enough, in a… forceful sort of way. It's just, he's always _there. _Always! God, if he hadn't already seen Jon in all his naked glory he'd think that this guy was Dr. Manhattan, capable of duplicating himself and being in a million places at once. It seems like everywhere he goes, no matter what he's doing, this guy is near. Dan realizes that he's probably harmless but still… it's a little creepy.

As he passes by their eyes lock. Dan smiles. The man does not smile back.

_Oookay then. _

He hasn't gone more than a few paces when he hears it:

"Sorry man, you're a few bucks too short."

Looking back over his shoulder Dan sees the vendor retracting a sandwich, looking apologetic. The ginger-haired man nods, as if he's expecting this and without saying a word starts off.

It's none of his business. It's _really _none of his business…

_Aw hell. _

Four dollars later and Dan has paid for that same sandwich – enduring the knowing, approving looks of the vendor all the while – and with a burst of speed that's more common of Nite Owl than Daniel Dreiberg, he catches up with the man as he rounds a corner.

"Hey!"

The man turns and Dan shoves the food into his hands. It nearly upsets his grip on the sign but reflexes – familiar reflexes? – has him balancing them both quickly. If embarrassment hadn't kept Dan from looking up he may have noticed this and a million other little things: the tiny scar on his chin that looks a lot like his partner's. The unconscious mouthing of his name.

"Here you go!" He's already backing away, still focusing on that god-awful jacket instead of the man's face. "H-have a nice day!" And he's jogging, retreating before he does something stupid.

* * *

><p>Six days into the future Dan serves homemade beans to his partner, so much more at ease with feeding him than that stranger. Rorschach shovels the food into his mouth, spilling bean juice all over the counter. When he gives an unexpected 'thank you' Dan has no idea that he's grateful for more than just this particular meal.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>11. <strong>

Two years into their partnership and Rorschach knows so much about Daniel. How he laughs, how he eats, how he's constantly touching his nose even when his glasses aren't there. Rorschach catalogues the neatness of his handwriting – contrasting with his own illegible scrawl – and notes that when he lets his mind wander Daniel has a tendency to hum cheesy love songs under his breath. And he's learning more each day. Bits and pieces of childhood memories. Visions of the future.

Rorschach knows much about Daniel, but it's still Nite Owl he's fascinated by.

He still watches how he moves.

* * *

><p><strong>+1<strong>

One winter's day Daniel pauses to pick up a penny, his body curving as it bends towards the ground. The ginger-haired man behind him watches this movement and remembers the same graceful arc being performed in armor. Boots. A mask to hide his face.

As Dan walks away, tossing the penny into the air, Walter ignores the pleasurable goosebumps rising on his arms.


	2. Part II: Something More

**Title: **Homonym

**Fandom: **Watchmen

**Pairing: **Rorschach (Walter)/Nite Owl (Daniel)

**Warnings: **SLASH – though very mild. As always: don't like, don't read

**Summary: **Slowly, and with great care, the relationship between Rorschach and Nite Owl grows.

**A/N: **Part Two of Homonym. Enjoy!

**Part II: Something More**

**1. **

Dan and the ginger-haired man meet again eighteen days later.

Coming back from coffee with an old college friend Dan strolls lightly down the sidewalk. The weather had become unseasonably warm the past few days and he swings his arms, happily unfettered by his normal winter clothes. He uses this rare movement to gaze up at the sky, searching for any birds that pass overhead. When he finally spots one – a flash of yellow against the clouds – he's paying far more attention to the beat of its wings than the color of the traffic light.

He feels the grip of hands at his back the second before his front feels the wind of a speeding car.

"_Jesus-!"_

Dan goes flying backwards, falling onto something hard. Only it's a 'something' that happens to move and smells faintly of sour milk. Dan rolls to his left, expecting to see some average bloke who's face he'll soon forget and instead meets the eyes of his ginger-haired friend.

For one beat, the two of them simply look at one another.

"God I-" Dan pats himself down, laughing shakily. "I didn't even realize… _thank you. _Just-"

"_Nngh."_

Startled by the sound, a sort of pained whine, he looks up and finds the man staring at his own palms. Dan realizes he's shaking.

"Hey, are you oka- wait!"

He's off like a shot across the street, paying no more attention to the traffic than Dan did earlier. Dan tries to call to him above the shrieking of tires but the man never turns, just keeps running as far and as fast as he can.

It's only after he's completely out of sight that Dan stands. Turning, he trips over a piece of wood and nearly looses his footing all over again.

Looking down he realizes the man forgot his sign.

* * *

><p><em>O Rose thou art sick.<em>

Walter doesn't stop running until he reaches his apartment. Scaling the fire escape and rushing to the end of the roof, he more slides than drops over the edge, swinging through the open window. It's a risk to take this unique entrance in broad daylight but right now there are more pressing matters running through his mind.

_The invisible worm, _

_That flies in the night_

_In the howling storm_

_Has found out thy bed_

Reaching the sink he throws the tap, allowing the cold, slightly brownish water to pour forth. Both hands are plunged beneath the spray and are rubbed until the dry skin along his knuckles begins to crack. When it's not enough he pulls off his jacket, made of a cheap, scratchy material, and uses it as an abrasive.

It's only when the water runs brown, clear, and then pink that he finally stops.

_Of crimson joy_

He knew. He _knew _that Daniel would become a liability. It's just-

_Walter has followed Daniel since he left the coffee shop, giving a hearty goodbye to his friend… He sees the light change and the continued, forward momentum of Daniel's steps… he has his hands around his partner's chest, pulling him backwards, violently… _

_It's the first time they've truly touched. _

_(Two years in the past Daniel offers his hand after their first night's work together – it is resolutely ignored. A few days later he'll make a stupid joke… and then choose not to touch his partner's shoulder. A few months after that they'll nearly stumble together during a fight - but Rorschach will dodge at the last moment. Later, two years later, Dan will place a bowl of beans beside his friend, knowing now not to let their fingers touch.)_

_They fall together, Daniel's body covering all of him. When he rolls off Walter suddenly feels like he's burning. It's a cold heat, not so much of the flesh but of the mind. An understanding. It's not Walter who nearly lost his life today but memories are still flashing across his vision, all of them encompassing movement: Nite Owl, taking out a group of Knot Tops. Daniel, bending to pick up a penny. Both of them, extending little things like coffee or beans or gauze or paper or soap or sandwiches or a hand-_

With a growl Walter throws the tap again and continues scrubbing.

_And his dark secret love_

_Does thy life destroy._

* * *

><p>Dan suddenly hears his mother's voice in his head, telling him he'll catch flies, and snaps his mouth shut.<p>

"You're… wait, _what_?"

His partner stands in the shadows of the tunnel, hands stuffed deeply into his coat pockets. He didn't come up to the kitchen or even wait at the worktable and now he's planted himself in the dark, refusing to come forward. This sudden desire for space, more than anything else, tells Dan that something is very wrong.

"Not well." He growls. "Sick. Need time to recover. No patrol tonight."

"Ah… okay. Yeah, sure." But Dan is still dumbstruck by what he's being told. During all the time they've partnered together Rorschach has never _once _backed down from their nightly duties. At least, not willingly. There was the time he broke his leg and was – obviously – out of commission for a while and last winter he caught a bad case of the flu and Dan had to basically tie him to the bed. But now…

"You uh, you don't sound sick."

It's the wrong thing to say. The moment the words are out of his mouth Dan wishes he could take them back. Rorschach's entire body has seized and his knees bend slightly, lowering him into the floor. It's the stance he takes when he expects to be attacked.

"Oh hell," Dan raises his hands, a sigh of peace. "I-I didn't mean that. I'm just… surprised, you know? I'm not, not _judging _you or anything, okay? Look, just get some rest alright? Spend some time here if you want. I've got the guest room upstairs – and you can lock it! – and maybe I can pick you up some soup or something…" Dan trails off. By now the shadows have nearly engulfed his partner and he can't see much more than the white of the mask. But God, maybe Rorschach is sick because what he can see - he's _shaking. _

(There's a brief flash of memory – the ginger-haired man who saved him today – but Dan shakes it off.)

"Rorschach-" Dan takes a step forward. Rorschach takes a step back.

They haven't done that since the early days.

"Just… take care of yourself buddy. Okay?"

"Hurm." He's granted a shaky nod and then Rorschach is gone, walking down the tunnel with far more speed than is acceptable for a man who's supposedly sick. But Dan lets him go, hoping that whatever it is that's tormenting his partner is something he can work out on his own. It doesn't seem like he'll be letting Dan help anytime soon.

Sighing, he strips out of his costume and heads upstairs for a hot drink, thinking that he needs it.

Dan doesn't notice that the sign he'd propped against the tunnel wall – the one the ginger-haired man had dropped. The one he had every intention of retuning – was gone.

* * *

><p>He <em>is <em>ill. That cannot be denied. There is a reason those of a sentimental nature call it being 'love sick.' There is a reason Shakespeare named this condition a fever.

So Walter does everything he can to treat himself.

He takes cold showers at all hours of the day, cleaning himself more times that week than he has in the past year. He denies himself what little luxuries he'd previously had: at night the thick, warm throw that was given as a Christmas gift (he won't think of _who _gave it to him) is tossed to the floor and in the morning he refuses to fill his pockets with Chariot sugar cubes. Sin is a slippery slope and one vile habit always leads into another. Perhaps, if many are denied, it might help to deny the one.

Of course, it doesn't work.

Walter, despite what many would believe, has always understood lust. Like all young boys he came to terms with his own on a practical level and learned the rest from witnessing encounters on the streets. The lust itself is not a sin – How can it be? It is an action as unconscious to the body as breathing – but _acting _on it, especially towards one who doesn't wish it…

Lying in bed, Walter forces his mind to spin possible scenarios. Nite Owl, confidently and politely saying 'no' but all the while trying to hide his disgust behind the mask. Or Daniel, awkwardly muddling through a rejection that, because he was caught off guard, is far more honest than Rorschach can handle. But it's not enough, so he continues weaving until the images in his mind are realistically detailed: Nite Owl, throwing a hard right against the side of his head. The ink of the mask shoots outward like a spray of blood and his partner is so far gone in rage that he aims for Rorschach's left eye. Half the world – half of him – suddenly goes black. Or Daniel again, screaming in his kitchen, his voice rising to a level Rorschach has never heard. He pulls a Coke from the fridge – one that, before now, would have been handed over with resigned affection – and throws the past gift so that it shatters above Rorschach's head. Glass and soda rain in cold torrents down his spine.

None of it is enough. Worse yet, each image is accompanied by a movement. Nite Owl turns fluidly after completing his punch. Daniel's arms are bare in a t-shirt, bunching in preparation to throw the bottle. The shaded lines of his muscles are less distinct than those of his armor but Rorschach gives them both equal attention. It seems wonderful… and then deteriorates into reality. The heterosexual male, terrified by the homosexual advance.

Grimacing, Walter deliberately squeezes his thighs together and weaves possible consequences for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>A week. A whole goddamn <em>week. <em>

Dan paces the floor of his bedroom, note crunched tightly against his palm. Ever since Rorschach had claimed to be 'sick' he had yet to lay eyes on him. However, he _had_ seen all the evidence that his partner was apparently well enough to be up and about.

Two days into this strange 'illness' he'd found a pair of muddy footprints on his stoop. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to realize someone had stood there for a while, looking up at the house. The day after that their notes on the latest drug ring mysteriously disappeared from the dining room table and two days after _that _they just as mysteriously reappeared in the kitchen. Dan had been meticulously checking the cupboards for missing food but to no avail. It worried him more than he'd like to admit that Rorschach hadn't snitched his usual handful of sugar cubes or can of beans. Dan wasn't an idiot, the guy was practically homeless and got most of his food out of others peoples' pantries. If he wasn't eating… well, Dan just hoped that this sickness his partner had was some kind of stomach bug.

Now though, early this morning, Dan had awoken to a piece of newspaper propped on his nightstand. The article itself wasn't important – just an ad for polo shirts – but the little mirrored 'r's in the side corner made him breath a sigh of relief.

So… what? Rorschach had snuck into his bedroom? That in and of itself wasn't entirely unusual, he'd often play alarm clock when he thought there was something significant that should be brought to Dan's attention, before their nightly patrol. But even during those rare times when Rorschach didn't wake him – _"Sleeping in is for the weak Daniel. Work to be done" - _he'd always leave an actual note: writing with a date, time, or place. _This _was the calling card he used for the police and nameless victims. What the hell did he mean, giving this to his partner? Was this Rorschach's anti-social way of saying 'Hey man, don't worry, I'm not dead! See you soon'?

Shaking his head Dan heads for the kitchen. There he catches sight of a bowl half-filled with milk and numerous cans lying empty. Well, that was something at least. The rest… if Rorschach didn't want to be seen than he wouldn't be. The only thing Dan could do was wait.

With sluggish movements Dan flips on the stove and watches as the blue flames spring to live. After a moment's hesitation he burns the note.

No use leaving evidence.

* * *

><p>It's eventually the need to eat that breaks his cycle and there's always food at Daniel's.<p>

Walter tells himself that this is not just an excuse.

What happens that night is no different from what's happened a hundred times before. He breaks the lock, eats cereal and beans in Daniel's kitchen, heads up to his bedroom…

Why does that only now seem wrong?

That's where his routine changed. Normally Rorschach would walk to the dresser, grabbing a bit of _Nostalgia_ to cover the scent of his body and rotting clothes. But he's taken so many showers this week that his stealing can't be justified and so he stands, lost. Daniel's breathing fills his ears and Rorschach sways to it, dizzy from too little food and denying himself other, more significant things.

Eventually he sits on the floor, his back against the bed's side. He spends the night trying to think of what he can tell Daniel, what excuse he can use to explain things without revealing this sickness. Each time he discards a possibility he tells himself that it wasn't good enough. It has nothing to do with the fact that, were he to actually write this note, he would have no reason to stay. He'd have to get up, removing his touch from the blankets that are touching Daniel.

So when dawn starts breaking he pulls a bit of newspaper from his pockets and just scribbles his signature instead.

He wonders what Daniel will make of that.

* * *

><p>"Well hey there stranger!"<p>

He seems so happy to have him back and for just a second Rorschach reels. He wonders what Daniel would do if he expressed his own contentment in such blunt terms. If he were to admit to – not all – but the little things, like the fact that Daniel doesn't eat frosted cereal but had some stored in his cupboards anyway…

But no. Publically speaking of the sickness is nearly as bad as acting on it. In his nightly weavings he'd never acted, only admitted, and always the reaction has been violent. He heard a saying once: what you don't know can't hurt you. Sometimes, the public masses are smart. He would not hurt Daniel. Never Daniel.

"Hurm. Good evening Daniel. Apologize for absence."

"Oh hey, hey, no problem." Daniel's grinning at him and adjusting is goggles, eager to get going. To normalize everything. "You uh, feeling better?"

"Fine."

"Great! Then let's take Archie out, yeah?"

He hesitates, but finally says: "Still stupid nick-name, Nite Owl."

Daniel laughs, loud and long. It's obviously more out of relief than genuine humor but even so, Rorschach spends the rest of the night trying to ignore the spark of pride in his chest. He's always been good at making Daniel laugh.

* * *

><p>Maybe it's the fact that he's worried about his partner, or maybe he's just a little less naive, but that night Dan is aware how much Rorschach watches him.<p>

Did he always _stare _like that?

I he's honest… yeah, probably.

They sit in Archie, still relaxing from their shared joke, and Rorschach is scribbling madly in his journal. But every once in a while his head tips just _so_… and Dan knows he's looking his way. It seems fitting that the only person Rorschach would dare give his attention to is the one person capable of recognizing it.

The latest question – one in a very long string – is whether Dan should acknowledge this.

That night they stop an attempted rape. Dan topples the guy, pinning the scum's arms with his knees and using gravity to better his punches. He knows that if he asked, Rorschach would mutter about him being able to handle it - it doesn't take the both of them to stop a guy his size. But even so, as Dan breaks the man's nose he can feel his partner's eyes on him, cataloguing each movement. Was it always like this? Dan recalls a similar situation – him against a group of Knot Tops. Rorschach, choosing to watch instead of participate – and thinks, _yes. _

Dan doesn't answer all his questions that night, but he does realize one thing:

He likes this.

* * *

><p><strong>2. <strong>

For a long time they do not speak of it.

Rorschach monitors his own movements: Don't stand too close. Don't walk right behind. Don't offer your hand too often when he's fallen. If he does take it don't grip too hard. Or too soft. Don't let it linger, but don't break away like you're disgusted either. Because you're not. But don't let him know that. Find a balance, let him be a friend. It's the truth and yet it's so hard to maintain.

He monitors his own movements and still freely catalogues Daniel's.

Dan, for his part, still wonders what was up with Rorschach that one time. He questions his partner's gaze and the frequency with which they're now touching and what kind of 'sickness' Rorschach actually had.

He continues questioning, with little bits of hope sneaking inside.

* * *

><p><strong>3. <strong>

As with so many other moments in their relationship, the next change is a soft one.

It's a slow night, warm and breezy with spring almost upon them. They've left Archie in his nest with an unspoken agreement to enjoy the night air. Between the weather and the little crime that crosses their path it's about as pleasant as New York City ever gets. They're determined to enjoy it.

However, all this is shattered for Rorschach as they come out onto the main street. There, across the way, is a couple snuggled together on a bench. He has to look twice before he realizes they're both men.

He turns away.

Daniel however, coos.

"Ah, young love." He says it half seriously and the rest is bound up with a self-conscious chuckle.

Rorschach stops, something threading through his veins.

"That," Daniel continues, oblivious. "is why we do this. Why it's worth it, you know?" He looks down at himself, still chucking. "_That _is why I dress up like a goddamn owl and beat up idiotic kids every night. It's the little things and all that."

When Rorschach speaks it feels like glass is being pulled up from the hollow of his throat. "Two _men_ Nite Owl," he snaps.

"Huh? Oh, yeah I know." Daniel peers at him. "Hey uh, that doesn't bother you does it? I mean," he coughs. "I know you can be… _forceful _about certain issues but you didn't strike me as real homophobic. I mean come on! With all the shit we see are you really going to reject two people loving each other just because they're the same se-"

"Not homophobic." Rorschach cuts him off. "Not. Just… didn't realize you approved."

"_Me_?" Daniel laughs. "Jesus Rorschach! What ever made you think _I _might be homophobic?

He shrugs, feeling like he's completely lost his footing. All of this is happening so fast and the rest just comes pouring out, "White. Wealthy. Jewish. Many not comfortable with such lifestyles. And…"

"And what?"

Rorschach shrugs again, trying to make it look indifferent. "Thought you were heterosexual."

"Oh, I am."

Whatever had been threading itself through Rorschach's veins dies.

"But, just between you and me, I had my wild nights in college. That aerospace engineering major wasn't a _compete_ hardnose. I've been known to make exceptions." Daniel winks, a young cheeky action. He saunters ahead of Rorschach, light on the memories of partying and experimentation.

Something blooms.

* * *

><p>Turning back around, Dan continues the conversation, unaware that Rorschach will neither register nor remember his words.<p>

"So…" He begins. "Are you…?"

"Hnk. _No _Daniel."

Rorschach is in another place, where something is threading itself through his bloodstream. His response to Daniel's aborted question is a reflex and bears no significance in his own mind. A minute later, the words are forgotten.

For Dan however…

Well, it may be stereotypical but the only times he'd ever heard someone be that vehement in their response is when they _are. _

It may not have been the admission Rorschach imagined but right then, with the comfortable acceptance of a rare friend (soon to be something more) Dan begins to assemble the pieces, one by one.

* * *

><p><strong>4. <strong>

That night, as Rorschach becomes Walter, he pulls his sign out from under the bed. He's barely touched it since that day on the street but now, _now, _he suddenly likes the idea of it having spent time in Daniel's home.

Walter… he rationalizes. To act on this sickness is wrong but now making such a statement is paramount to saying that _Daniel _is wrong. That Daniel – good Daniel – is sick for his past actions and cheeky winks.

This is not an option.

Rorschach, (and Walter) he doesn't believe in grey. There is good and there is bad and there cannot be compromise.

But one _can_ outweigh the other.

Daniel… he is more good than the sickness is bad.

So Walter searches until he finds an old sharpie tucked inside the closet. On the back of his sign, so tiny no one will see, he draws his double 'r's in one corner and the initials 'D.D.' in the other.

It feels like a promise.

* * *

><p><strong>5. <strong>

After this there are no grand revelations, but things do start moving forward. Slowly.

It's a Saturday night and they've all gathered together for a photo. For some strange, inexplicably human reason everyone is willing to put aside their hostility in order to commemorate a group that none of them truly feel they're a part of. Perhaps they do this so that in the future, when they're wondering why and whether it was worth it, they will have something concrete to look back on. An image, filled with smiling faces that say 'yes, we're happy together' and it really doesn't matter if it was as much a lie then as it is now.

Walter has no need of such assurances. The _only_ reason Rorschach comes is because Daniel wants him too. It's just one more compromise (though he doesn't call them that) in a very long string.

The photographer makes a sweeping gesture with his arms, motioning them closer. Rorschach moves slightly to the left and as he does, his shoulder brushes Daniel's. He can see the hard plate of the armor and imagines the flesh underneath. He has flashes of both those arms moving, no longer throwing punches and Coke bottles but swinging lightly at his sides as he winks.

They're in a perfect position but Rorschach has never bowed to authority before. Ignoring the photographer's irritation he takes one more step to the left. One step closer to Daniel.

* * *

><p>Dan watches as Rorschach presses against him. Most people would look at his face, always shifting, always changing, and give up on trying to read it.<p>

Dan isn't most people.

He watches as the ink suddenly pools around Rorschach's cheekbones, picking up speed. He thinks back to one of their older conversations over coffee; Rorschach explaining that the mask responded to pressure and heat. Dan had commented – innocently at the time – that it must go crazy when he blushes.

Here and now, Dan smiles for the camera.

* * *

><p>Three weeks and there's another moment, another camera, standing outside the police station. The newspapers – quick on their feet for once - have caught them in the middle of the action, demanding that they pose. They too want something tangible to solidify this victory.<p>

Rorschach tries to slip away but Dan's already got his arm around his shoulders, reeling him in. Everyone cheers at this camaraderie, the exposure of humanity from beneath the masks. The cameras capture a series of platonic imagery.

These partners however, they capture something entirely different. Rorschach, somewhat disbelievingly, notes how possessively Dan takes hold of his arm. Gloved fingers slip between the folds of a trench coat and find purchase there. Dan, for his part, notes how willingly Rorschach accepts this.

They give to the cameras but take far more away. This time, both of them smile.

* * *

><p><strong>6. <strong>

There's one more moment, six months after this one, when Dan is mending a cut on his partner's shoulder. The protective layering of clothes has been stripped away and, noticing this, Dan nods thoughtfully himself. If ever he were to do it, it should be now.

Dipping his head he places a single, quick kiss on Rorschach's back.

Yes, he's attracted to Amy at the drug store, handing him his purchases with rings and manicured nails. He was also attracted to Jason at Harvard, curled together under the oak tree outside his dorm. But of course, neither of them is Rorschach. Why try to quantify this? Neither of them are his partner.

_Never been fond of redheads, _he thinks, tracing a series of freckles. _But as said, I'm willing to make exceptions._

* * *

><p><strong>7. <strong>

"Close your eyes."

"Oh come on!" Dan laughs, shaking his head. Rorschach makes an unhappy sound in the back of his throat.

"Daniel, you don't get your Christmas present if you don't close your eyes."

"I'm Jewish."

"_Daniel." _

He looks over Archie's consul to where Rorschach sits, hands gripped tightly in his lap. They're far above the city, hidden in the clouds, but his partner has been on alert all night. Obviously, he's nervous about whatever this gift is.

"Okay, okay." Dan closes his eyes.

"Promise not to open them."

He can't help the chuckle that escapes. "I won't."

"_Promise._"

Slowly, eyes still closed, Dan nods. "Okay. Yeah. I promise."

"Hrm. Good."

The next five minutes pass in complete silence. Dan doesn't know if Rorschach is testing him or just gathering his courage but either way, his eyes never open. Dan sits, waiting patiently. He gives Rorschach as much time as he needs.

When the kiss does come it's not a surprise. Being a masked vigilante builds one's awareness of those around you. Dan knew when Rorschach got close, when he got even closer, and was well aware of what he planned to do before he did it. They both know that had he wanted to stop the kiss, he could have.

The first touch… it's a child's attempt. Rorschach puckers his lips too much and hits Dan's nose and obviously has no idea what to do with his hands. So he takes it slow, barely grazing the surface and putting as much feeling behind those simple actions as he can. When Rorschach's mouth does finally open – more an involuntary gasp than an invitation – Dan's tongue immediately finds a chipped canine. He wants to ask Rorschach how that happened but then there's a brief taste of cinnamon mint and Dan realizes that his semi-aqua-phobic partner brushed his teeth before initiating this.

He's so immersed in that little detail that when his hands move to pull Rorschach in they don't immediately register what they're touching: stubble, acne scares, wiry hair that curls around his fingers. Dan realizes that his partner is unmasked – in so many ways – and revels in it.

When Rorschach finally pulls back there's a pause… and then his presence leaves Dan's space completely. He makes sure not to open his eyes until he hears the slide of latex over skin.

"Heeey," Dan reaches out, catching a bit of the trench coat. It's likely the craziness of the moment that makes him ask, "_will _I ever get to see you?"

Everything stops.

_Shit. _

"Mmm. Take Archie down Daniel."

He does, but Dan is kicking himself the entire way back to the nest. Stupid, stupid, _stupid. _There's silence throughout the flight and Rorschach walks right past him when they land, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence. He's probably ruined everything now. Rorschach won't even _look _at him. He just picks up that sign he left in the basement and starts heading down the-

Wait…

Daniel looks again. He sees the painted words – _The End Is Nigh_ – and pictures them in the hands of another man, one with ginger-hair and a habit of following him around.

Rorschach hefts the sign casually over his shoulder.

"Already seen Daniel." He says, and walks out.

* * *

><p><strong>+1 <strong>

Rorschach leaves Daniel's thinking about definitions; how one word can have a multitude of meanings and they're not always understood all at once.

He's still not sure how to be a friend.

He is, however, an excellent partner.

_Fin._

* * *

><p><span>Notes:<span>

The poem in the second part of section 1. is William Blake's "The Sick Rose."

Paraphrase of "My love is as a fever" is from Shakespeare's Sonnet 147


End file.
